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      Uzumri waited quietly beneath the shadow of a large asteroid. But as quiet as the mighty warship was, even more hushed was the static transmission between it and the approaching transport, which slowed considerably at an appropriate distance and set down inside a deserted shuttle bay. They had arrived at last from their long mission on the Halo's surface. All was not so stereotypically calm, which was unfortunate given how the Intejii manning the sensory console was completely oblivious to the fact.

      Still waiting in the vastness of space, huddled in a sophisticated cloaking mechanism, a sensory probe invisible to both electronics and naked eyes alike fed data through a secure communications route. The distance wasn't very far. And it mattered little to the Forerunner that several recon groups were operating. Those could be swatted like flies at a moment's notice. The real power that kept the fury of the formidable Savior single-ships in check was standing in a ship, examining a vial that could make the difference of life or death for many living creatures.

      For those in the shuttle bay time continued. Unaware and unsuspecting, they disembarked from the dropship that had carried them home. This was the way of existence. This was the way of reality, many viewpoints, many possible outcomes, but only one single destiny as a result of their collective contribution. Mikka stood for a moment to survey the scene before him. It was a typical space, large, cavernous. Two upper walkways ringed the room, accessed by gravity lifts. On the floor, storage containers had been organized in various manners, forming a maze of ordinance and perishables, with two large square spaces cleared under the gravity clamps for ships to dock. Not very professional, but they made due with what they had. Supply Crews. He would never understand them.

      When he'd finished his momentary panning, he turned about to find Snuggle and Kodos missing. Tras'Lok had taken Shade to be mended long ago, the sentries on policing duty were still spreading rumors. He shrugged. That was their business, he on the other hand was tired and hungry. When he arrived in the social areas of his assigned quarters, he found his companions waiting.

"We were considering finding a meal, would you honor us with your accompaniment?"

Kodos had replaced his fuel-rod and shield with gauntlets, ensuring that he could grasp whatever it was he wished.

"I would honor myself, standing by your side. Of course. Let us go."

      As was expected, the feasting hall was empty, with the lower ranks attending an entirely different area. They had the run of the place, and Snuggle did not waste this opportunity. She pocketed several green canisters before popping one open and swallowing the contents in one greedy swig. Kodos was far more deliberate, he rested in a hover chair, looking Mikka's way.

"You are troubled, what ails your mind?"
"I see now that combat has finished we are back to formality." He sat across from the Hunter.
"It is expected, we are being watched. Now enlighten me."
"The Arms-Master is planning a hostile takeover."

His bluntness was too much for Kodos, who grunted derisively and crossed his arms.

"Truly, I am far too tired for humor. Forget that I wondered."

      He shook his head. His troubles would remain his own. He keyed the chair's control and brought himself to a food dispensing machine, literally an aquarium inside which many fish floated. He snapped a medium-sized one up, cooked it in the waiting plasma beams and shoved it down his throat, crushing the thin bones in all and swallowing without so much as an impolite crack. His digestive organs would do the rest. Sated for the moment, he noticed Snuggle waddling up under the weight of her methane rebreather.

"I hate fighting, I wish we could just not fight.. And everyone could have whatever they wanted."
"That would be ideal, Snuggle. But the universe is not so simple."

      He felt as if he was speaking to a pup, and on some level he was. But Snuggle was far from that age, and had left such naivety behind long ago. He maneuvered to face her, forgetting, for the moment, the brooding Kodos.

"I know. But you have to be positive, see? Otherwise war gets to you. I mean, I try my best not to hurt. Hurting only gets hurting back, unless you hurt the bad guys, then throw them off the ship, but that's another story..."

Mikka caught on quickly; they were being watched, so Snuggle had to act her part. Stupid and compliant. But she was smarter than many believed.

"Correct, it is another story, and you are trying my patience. There are several flaws in your tale, vermin. That is only a possibility. Personally, I would simply kill my enemy. There can be no retaliation from the dead."
"Okay. But I wouldn't do that. See, I swore to protect my men, and if the bad guy has a grenade triggered to go when he dies-"

      Mikka kicked the little healer in the face, silencing any further chatter. She screamed, arms in the air as she ran from the room. He stood, purposefully following after to finish what he'd started. When the doors of the feast hall closed behind him, he offered the Hari-Key a hand.

"Did you have to kick so hard?" She was busily rubbing a fresh cut with some sort of salve.
"Would you rather Tras' supporters caught us? Kodos could care less. I am glad you kept your ears open."
"Well, the Lady did save us a grizzly death, whether she meant to or not. Things need to be repaid."

      He clenched one set of mandibles and began walking to the nearest console. If things were going to turn out the way he thought they would, he was going to need the firepower stored in the armory. The only problem would be getting the permit to gain access. That was where this console would help him.

      He began to write a formal letter before he realized there was a tab flashing. Those only occurred when an urgent message needed to be relayed to every console station operator. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he touched the flashing, indigo symbol.
There was an aging Torra on the screen.

"All Covenant, disregard this notice at your own peril. A terror stalks the corridors of the Uzumri, slaughtering our brothers and sisters without regard to position or occupation. The acting Master of the Armory has issued a general order. Weapons to every creature capable of holding them. If you sight whatever this beast, indeed this demon, is... relay its position. It must be destroyed before it can cause further difficulty. Gods be with us."

      The message simply cut off. This was going to be much easier that he'd first thought.
Without saying a word to Snuggle, waving and hoping she would follow, Mikka moved down the corridor at a jog, letting his eagerness show, but wary all the same. Perhaps the armory he was trying to find would be empty when he arrived? He turned to his only companion and decided to take a page from her book. Think positive, he decided, and things might turn out for the better. After checking to see that she was indeed following, he set off at a more confident pace, unconsciously checking out of the corners of his eyes, searching every shadow. If there was something about to ventilate his brains all over the next bulkhead, he decided that he would not fall without a determined effort to save himself.

"Ah, it is Mikka!" The flighty nasal voice behind him was apparently very glad.
"It took much time from my studies, brother. But here you are, found by my eyes at last."

      He turned, and was about to tell whoever was searching for him of his need to continue to the nearest armory when he realized something - in his haste he'd walked right passed it without noticing. Swallowing the knot of embarrassment in his throat, he stood at ease. The voice belonged to none other than Weilan, the Intejii who was apparently very closely connected to Tras'Lok. Floating to his side on some sort of gaseous sacs, with his massive, bulbous brain contained in a skull that was indeed nearly his entire body, Weilan looked his part. A giant brain crossed with a jellyfish. His many hundreds of strong grasping tentacles currently hung limp. It struck Mikka that he and his fellows were an offshoot of the prophet 'engineer' race. The only real threat to the prophets themselves, and thus in the Covenant controlled very strictly by implants that hindered their growth into whatever their pinnacle evolution was.

      Arriving back to the business at hand, he realized that Weilan was very rarely away from the ship's controls. Unless of course he had some form of business he deemed more important, which meant it was something very urgent indeed that drove him to seek Mikka.

"You want my ear, Master Intejii? Speak then, but do so quickly, I must obtain weapons from the armory."
"You will find that difficult, Mikka Masanee'."

Weilan lifted a tentacle into the air and pulled himself into the nearby observation room.

"The Quizal and their tiny allies, the Hari-Key, have already raided most of the unguarded weapons. Our resident Torra have been hard pressed to keep the mob at bay. The little fellows are, after all, most numerous of us. But thankfully easily cowed by displays of absolute power."

      He vanished into the darkness. Cautiously, Mikka followed. Overly talkative or not, the Intejii could be frighteningly cunning. As was expected Snuggle waited outside, growing more anxious by every unit that passed. The lighting in the room gradually went from dark, dim, to bright after the doors had closed. Avoiding the various consoles, he joined Weilan in the center of the room. It was a circular place, with a flat roof and floor. One side was dominated by windows, which were surprisingly clear given that Covenant engineers usually ran a network of fiber-optic nerves through them to keep the flow of information smooth, with as many possible routes that could be found. It was in this way that damaged sections could not interfere with the running of the various functions of any vessel.

"Greeting, to the realm of science and fact. An Intejii study set aside by our gracious monarch."
"I assume you know of the power struggle taking place."
"Indeed, we do. Its signs were apparent far earlier, simply harder to notice by you tiny-brained barbarians. No insults intended, honored Torra."

His tentacles shot out faster than Mikka could follow and manipulated something on the nearby controls before going limp again.

"That will deactivate the listening devices Tras'Lok and his followers have employed."
"Why so underhanded?" He wondered aloud. "The Arms-Master is an honorable person."
"To defeat Shade, he must be both decisive and creative. My analysis have shown me that he has been successful thus far, given her present misfortunes. She is not in healthy condition. Now, I am here to relay to you the position of the Intejii. I know of your intentions to support Shade in the coming power struggle, I have concluded this based off your flight to the armory. While your surface reason is simply self-defense, you carry an energy sword on your person. How you obtained it I won't bother researching but what is important is that you must see this transmission we recovered. It will clarify a few things."

      Once more Weilan whipped his tentacles into a frenzy, likely to decode some complicated security clearance. A holographic projector began to glow, producing a screen filled with the heavily decorated calligraphy of a highly ranked member of the Torra. Each painstakingly drawn character was represented in a bright greenish-purple by the computer.

"What is this?"
"A letter from one Arch-Spire 'Kreled', apparently the structure of the Lannaan is more vast than even I realized. And filled with many subtle warriors; warriors who would rather be without Shade."
"Why are you showing me this... correspondence?"
"Is it not obvious?" He sighed in an odd wailing chirp. "You have less time than you believe. To keep things simple, the Intejii support neither Tras'Lok nor Shade. We simply desire our freedom from the Covenant, and to that end do not wish to see strife tear our fragile rebellion apart from within."

He nodded quietly, digesting the information. Weilan continued.

"The letter I just showed you sheds some more light on the issue of this civil struggle, this is no spontaneous plot by the Arms-Master to usurp the seat of power. He is a good warrior, a loyal one worthy of respect. He does what he thinks to be right, guided by his own moral compass. That is his shortcoming as well as his strength. Judging by this text, Tras'Lok was ordered by a superior in the Lannaan to dispose of Shade so that the Doomharrow's core mission of separating from our mainstream brethren could continue without side-tracks and unnecessary displays of strength."

      He nodded again, remembering several times in the past few years the various battles that had occurred, the heavy-handed tactics they'd employed. The truth of it was, in the mind of a strategist Shade was far too accustomed to fighting the humans. He could understand the Lanaan perspective. But it was the wrong approach, they needed all the allies they could find, potentially dangerous or not.

"So, the Lady is a drain on resources that could better be allocated to combating the prophets and their false 'great journey'." Mikka crossed his arms.
"Yes, precisely. The Arms-Master being who he is initially knew that he could not simply kill Shade, his vows as a warrior preventing him from harming her and forcing him to safeguard her with every sacrifice possible. He could choose no single side, as he would dishonor himself by remaining loyal to one and betraying the other. It is all very intriguing, but painfully simple."
"Not so for others, Master Weilan." Mikka flattered his greater reasoning skill. "Please continue."
"Well," He floated higher, pleased with himself. "Given Shade's recent contact with the artificial intelligence we found, she has been unstable and paranoid. Physically weaker. Something is happening to her that has been very detrimental to her, having subjected herself to the pains she has, she is pushing herself passed her limit. Biologically modified or not, she is no invincible engine of destruction."
"What does Shade have to do with this rebellion?"
"Ah, so glad you inquire. Having displayed this weakness as a Leader of warriors, and suffering the crushing defeat at Halo, in which I admittedly lost many personal friends..."

He paused, drawing in a shaking breath before returning to his logical mode.

"Faith which was only partial before was further shaken. The Doomharrow assembled here on the Uzumri need a new master before they tear themselves apart. Tras'Lok can fill that void and satisfy his Lanaan superiors. He has the support of the troops, who openly agree with mutiny as the best course of action."

Mikka began to grow tired of standing and pushed himself up onto a nearby console. The Intejii having no need for chairs or benches tolerated none in their workspace. He returned his attention to Weilan.

"But there are those like you who believe that Shade can still move us toward our objective. The impatient fools high above do not share that sentiment. The problem lies in that Tras'Lok has become disillusioned with Shade as well. He is no longer quite so committed to her safety, which is why I implore you to assist your present legitimate mistress. If he maroons her on some backwater planet, she will not survive. I intend to save as many lives as I can. Help me, Mikka Masanee'."

      So, this Intejii was interested in doing what was right. To save as many lives as possible; to win their freedom from the prophets, these were both worthy goals. And Weilan had no reason to lie, so it was unlikely that he was being played for a fool.

      Mikka stood, resolved to carry through with this new mission. If that speech had been anything, it was inspiring. Perhaps he could make a difference after all; he would do as Weilan was doing, save as many lives as possible from this inter-rebel war.

"I will help you. By my freedom I swear this." He felt his heart beating faster and faster with every second. "I'll start with Shade."
"Excellent, my brothers and I will balance the emotions of the masses. Carry your plans into completion before things get violent."

He whipped his tentacles, cracking them off the floor.

"You will need these."

When he lifted those many tentacles again a large storage module had appeared.

"What is this?"
"Some of the more recent technology, honored Torra. From the Lanaan armory. Carbines, particle beam rifles, armor with active camouflage and stronger shielding. There are other surprises as well, but suffice it to say it is all very desirable. Very technologically advanced items. You will need them. Good luck."

      Kodos could carry the storage module; Mikka knew just by looking at it that it was far too heavy for him. Now that his mind was working again, he decided that he would find his companions. He would not waste the opportunity. Snuggle was right where he'd left her, looking very twitchy for her wait. She glanced at his face and found the certainty there, he could tell she was visibly relieved.

"Come quickly healer, the Feasting Hall. We must speak to Kodos."

      As they departed, the many-limbed form of Weilan hovered into the view of a nearby camera. His laugh was little more than a chortle, but it was somehow a very cold thing. A wicked little monster that slit the throats of sleeping children.

"Naïve."

The cloaked form next to him stepped out of a shadowed alcove and deactivated its camoflauge.

"I wonder how much of that was the truth?"
"Most was fact Arms-Master, I assure you. Don't become agitated, I am aware who my friends are."

The abnormally tall Tras'Lok was silent for a few breaths, his eyes pointedly watching the end of the corridor where Mikka and his Hari-Key subservient had just disappeared.

"Those items you handed to Mikka, have someone retrieve them. I will see to my... sovereign, before any of her possible loyalists might interfere. Assemble whomever might attend you into the shuttle bay. It begins."

Still walking away from information that would have been very valuable, had he known it, Mikka turned to Snuggle, who glanced up in response.

"This is bad." She'd beaten him to it. "There's no one around. Where is everyone?"
"It matters little, we must find Kodos. The fewer questions the better."

      They ran as quickly as their bodies would allow, Snuggle desperately gasping for breath. Fortunately for her, their destination was their position before even Mikka could fathom it. That had been much quicker than the last time they'd traveled this way. He had grown used to the distance. They marched into the near-vacant room much too quickly for any seasoned professional. There were no weapons aimed in their direction however. Only Kodos lay within. The Hunter had apparently begun pacing some time ago, he was as tense as Snuggle was, and that was an odd show of emotion from one so large.

"Ah, you have returned. I have reconsidered your words, my friend. The slime-covered Intejii has spoken to me. His words were persuasive."
"You will participate in this mission, then?" He was still uncertain, given the Hunter's previous dismissal.
"I will, speak what must be done, and it will be."

      His bass voice was a heartening echo in the vast emptiness. He arose to his full height, a staggering twelve feet, dropped his cumbersome shield and flexed a thick, clawed hand. These, Mikka surmised, were probably of the same nature as the spines on his back, capable of ripping even the largest of things in half. He took a few steps back so he could see them both, and went over the plan in his mind. A plan he had made all of mere moments ago, but it would suffice. It was after all better then having no plan. He inhaled, and before he could accept the knot in his throat for something larger than he was, he gave his orders. Simple, easily deciphered and to the point.

"You both know what Shade did for us below, on the Halo. Our mission is to return that favor. Kodos, in an Intejii observation room not far from here there is a cargo module, use the ship's sensors to find the room. Take the module and bring it to me. I will be waiting in the nearest Shuttle Bay."

The Hunter nodded and pounded his feet on the floor as he strolled off.

"Snuggle, restock your medical supplies and find prefab living materials. Return to me when you've done this."

      Realizing only after he'd sent them off that he would need to check on Shade's condition, he froze. Weilan had said that things were going to become unfavorable much sooner than rumors suggested. He had no reason to disbelieve that statement. But he could make it back in time.

      He set off once again, and it struck him, now that he was alone with his own thoughts and needed not put up the shield of confidence that the ship really was empty. It was unnerving, almost like the crew, the ground forces, the pilots and any other personage had simply vanished. He could hear his own hurried footfalls clapping off the floor, the soothing chime of hybrid biological-mechanical signals whistling through the walls. The lighting, once bright and uncontested by any gloom was now dim and claustrophobic. He was in some sort of lull, the eye of a thousand hurricanes. A place where the heroes of all species had come and gone, made their mark and passed into nothingness. An unrecognized sanctum to pause and reflect upon fate. Looking into the grayness cast by the interior of the ship, he could not help but think of one thing as he ran, how he would fail. He would not be fast enough to prevent Tras' supporters from bringing to bear their weapons on Shade, in the back of his mind he knew this. And it only resolved him to push harder, as frail for a Torra as he was, it could not be said that any member of his race in the history of time lacked both tenacity and determination to do what had to be done. He was one chosen by fate to do the most unpleasant of things. To go against the tide and become a minority that fought for change. Change almost always succeeded eventually.

      Full of that insulating thought, he arrived at the Medical Chambers close to the Shuttle Bay from which they'd returned from the Halo. With an apology already on his lips he entered, took in the computers, displays, lone Quizal, and empty stretcher. The telling mark of clear blood had seeped into its surface. The Quizal's eyes were wide upon seeing him, and its muscles frozen with terror.

"Harm me not!" It yowled.
"Where is she?" His calm but urgent tone did more than subtle threat of harm ever could.
"Tras'Lok took her to her quarters, he said. Gave healer's attention first, stabilized her condition then took her to rest. He went another way though, I followed. Shade may be Shade, but I never harm a patient. I heard them saying Shuttle bay, cargo bay, docking bay... or was it launch bay?"
"Which is it, healer? I have no time!"
"Shuttle bay!" The Quizal healer cried, finally certain of his observation. He began to laugh. "Helping a doomed rebel of rebels. One last thing before I die for claiming neutrality."
"What?"
"It's nothing to you, Torra. Leave this place."

      Figuring the sentence to be nothing more than the rambling of a being who thought itself dead, Mikka did just that; he had all that he needed from here. And by the looks of things, he had little time as it was, to halt his activities and debate about the troubles of others. The problem he faced now was possibly very frustrating. The healer had given him Shade's general location. This was uncontested. The problem lay in finding the correct Shuttle Bay, if he took too long to achieve that he would be too late to influence any proceedings. Judging from the talk he'd heard so far that would be very undesirable for Shade.

      He searched as patiently as he could for one of the endless interface panels scattered along the corridors, most had apparently just been deactivated by the unseen tentacles of an Intejii manning the bridge controls, so any that he did find were virtually useless. His mind verging on the edge of panic, he searched his memories for an answer, a way out of the defeat planned for him. The Uzumri was a ship built for war, and as such was engineered with the highest possible combat efficiency. Signal lines were scattered throughout the ship, if any of them were cut they could re-route and re-grow almost instantaneously, like the nerves of a brain. The consoles found in nearly every area were a direct result of that, as far as he could remember. They were present should the bridge or other major control centers be disrupted, not to mention the benefit of convenience. In case borders managed to access their functions any of these consoles could be shut down to prevent unauthorized access, a primitive lockdown given their lack of knowledge in the field of artificial intelligence.

      Even so, there was always a method of bypassing that failsafe. Why it was there he cared not, he simply needed it in this moment, in this time. If he were a Ship Master the most practical area he would place a fail safe... would be his personal quarters. Well-protected, far too obvious and thus the perfect hiding place. Unfortunately, also on the other end of the ship. He paced, silently cursing the gods for having placed him in such a fate, and kicked the wall in anger. Its quasi-luminescent surface yielded not at all, and only succeeded in bringing pain to his hoof. His head shook in defeat, hopeless. They had anticipated he would do this, hadn't they? Seen his thoughts even before he'd had the chance to think them, and planned accordingly. Shamed, he peeled his jaws back and felt a yell working up his body. Before he could finish, his communicator snapped him back to reality.

"Lord Mikka I don't know what you're doing, but I need more orders." Snuggle was almost hesitant to speak. "I know its bad to talk on the battle net now, but we have a job to do, I just want to do it."

      He blinked. Yes, they had a mission to complete. He had not done so horribly in his last one. To fail in this most important of charges was to acknowledge that he was unfit for his station. He would not do that. He had to bring them to their small little victory. He had to succeed.

"Snuggle-"

He stopped for a moment, an idea suddenly striking him. He had been outwitted, yes. But the battle was not over, and assistance could come from the most unlikely of sources. It was time his people learned that the Hari-Key were more than simple cannon fodder.

"Yes, my friend?"

She took in a wheezy breath. She had been working hard to carry out his order. If she could remain committed to their goal, so would he.

"Where are you?"
"Just above the Feast Hall, a supply room we Hari-Key made out of an old maintenance walk."
"Are there any working access terminals- interface consoles - nearby?"
"Yes, I'm standing-
"Excellent, I need your assistance. Access the security grid and view the cameras inside every Shuttle Bay until you find the one our brethren has gathered inside."
"Alright. Looking right now!"

      Her eagerness was refreshing, all he had encountered was failure. He quickly reminded himself of how much time he had. He needed an answer now. This was taking much too long. Why hadn't they just used the ship's scanners? It was too late for that, they had already begun. Switching to an internal scanner would only cause them to lose time. They would need luck on their side. Impatient and slightly annoyed, Mikka wanted to set off. If he did that, however, he could very well go in the wrong direction. Sighing, trying to control himself, he remained still.

"Have you found it?"
"Not yet." She had jumped slightly.
"Hurry Snuggle, the result of our mission depends on this!"

He could no longer contain himself, his muscles were trembling. To shame him as they had was a slap in the face, anticipating his every move like he was a child. Failing the debt he owed the one who had saved his life would be worse. That would not happen.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Mikka." She was practically shouting, as loud as his helm's speakers were registering the sound of her voice.
"Aha, there," a sharp sizzle followed by garbled sound concluded her transmission.
"Snuggle?" He paused. Had she been shot? Was it interference from an overlapping signal?

Either one was likely, but given the importance he'd placed on her it simply wasn't logical. She wouldn't abandon him without good reason. A brief flicker of clarity suddenly blew into his ears.

"That Shuttle Bay! Follow the red line!" Snuggle sounded triumphant.

      Several hot-sounding bolts sizzled into his hearing. A choked sob followed, and an explosion concluded. Stunned into silence, lost for words, his jaws hung limp. The words he had wished to say would not come to him. Too shocked to realize it, he was already running. One by one they were dropping dead, killed by superior enemies. But what struck him as the strangest thing of all, was that those enemies tended to be brother and sister more often than not. He would not let it happen again. One more reason for him to throw everything he had into saving Shade from whatever death had been planned for her so Tras'Lok could take her place. In the back of his mind, he knew he was moving faster every passing breath.

      When the red line ended and the doors were before him, he did not stop. This was perhaps, why he was so easily subdued. The doors parted and he saw many weapons, all leveled on him. Then searing white, with a sharp throbbing in the back of his skull. Purple blood hung lazily in the air over his eyes. Clawed feet. And then he was flying. He didn't feel himself impact the floor, and his standing was more reflexive than anything. Rapidly his hands searched for a weapon on his person, finding none. Slowly he balled his hands into fists, spread his feet apart.

For the first time, he could see.

      This room was large even by the standards of a carrier. It was simple in design, though it possessed the sole right to brag that it had by far the largest landing facilities in all the ship. Nearly ten stories high including the floor, with the nine other walkways circling around the room and easily accessed by gravity lifts, Seraph single ships waited on anti-gravity clamps for their next battle. Bright lights cast an eerie, ghostly glow everywhere. The floor itself was ornately tiled, filled with supplies and organized to the point of having been overseen by a very zealous cargo master. These things he took in only briefly, his main focus was much more important. Everywhere he looked, weapons glowed with cruel heat. The galleries of the Shuttle Bay were filled with warriors, standing shoulder to shoulder with a deafening chant on their lips. They'd rallied behind the only one who could lead them. The only one Mikka believed would never betray his sovereign. Sword blazing, Tras'Lok was the impetuous god of judgment, waiting high above for his time, a moment so perfect it could break a world with one small tensing of the hand

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